So Long
by TheCauldron
Summary: HPDM Companion to Goodbye. Draco's POV. The smallest word could save them both.


**Authors Note: This is the companion piece to Goodbye. It doesn't really matter what order you read them in, though Goodbye was written first.**

Merlin, you'd think I'd be over this by now.

I watch you out of the corner of my eye as you tumble along in your shabby oversized clothes and your completely _impossible_ hair. My hands itch to run through the strands, to see if they are as soft as they look. And if I was to grab a hold of those raven locks and drag you into snogging range, well.

It will never happen, of course. No matter how many nights I lay awake fantasizing as I seek release, or how many nights I dream of you falling asleep with your head on my chest and my arms tightly around you, it will _never happen_. Because you're the Golden Boy, the Chosen One, The-Man-Who-Prevailed, and the Hero of the Century, far too pure for a former Death Eater to sully with his tainted hands.

I've been in love with you since fifth year, not that you'd know it.

Fuck, every time you walk past I get a whiff of that tantalising scent that is just _you_. I know you don't wear cologne, because I had Dobby spy on you. Bet you didn't know that Dobby likes me almost as much as he hates my father, did you? Of course not, I'm just Slytherin Scum to you, and always will be.

It was for you, you know, that I changed sides in the war. I could see the terror and desperation, and yes, even the resignation building in those verdant eyes of yours, dulling their sparkle, and I couldn't let that fire die entirely. So I fed you bits of information as I could, just a little, just enough to give you hope, and before I knew it, I was a fully fledged spy, firmly in your pocket. Damn you and damn your eyes. And damn me for not even trying to escape you.

I watch, hidden by the bleachers as you fly, swooping and diving like the most gifted of birds. God I envy you that freedom. I ache to join you, to chase and spin and _fly_ with you, leaving this world behind for one that belongs to us alone. I clench my fist until my palm bleeds, turn, and walk away. I can't keep doing this to myself, I _can't_.

I spotted you lurking in an alcove the other day, hiding from your more persistent fans, I would imagine. A first year Gryffindor girl was walking past, and suddenly, I had to try to get you to see that I am _more_ than the mask I've had to wear for years. A quick Seam Splitting Hex and her bag spills forth its contents. The ink pot shatters, but it's no matter, I can fix that. I help my unwitting accomplice to repair the bag and pick up her things, fixing the inkpot and charming its contents back inside. I smile and joke with her, feeling your eyes burning as they slide over me. But you don't approach me, and you never mention later. Why?

I try everything I can think of to get you to notice me, even going so far as to buy Granger's forgiveness with one of my favourite books. And still you don't see me.

Merlin, what more can I do? Every time you see me, we automatically drop into our previous roles, antagonising each other needlessly. Every insult burns my lips, and it hurts, _it hurts_ to see that flash of pain in your eyes, knowing that I'm the reason it's there.

Dobby told me you asked him to steal my scarf. I gave it to him to pass to you, desperately filled with hope that maybe, _maybe_ you will approach me now. Days pass, then weeks, and that hope turns to bitter ash in my mouth.

I can't approach you myself, you know. My father bound me with some obscure curse that he dug up Merlin knows where, after he found out my feelings for you. Unless you make the first move towards ceasing this enmity, I can't do anything. I can't even tell anyone about it, not unless I want my throat to close over in the imminently fatal kind of way. I think it was created to stop family heirs from interacting with unsuitable matches, no matter the victims own feelings on the matter. It would make sense, since Father has demanded I marry Astoria Greengrass. Fuck I hate that vapid little bitch.

I see the littlest Weasley hanging off you, and your absolute boredom with the entire idea. Stupid thing doesn't even realise you don't want her. I hate her, but more than that, I hate that she can be with you, and I can't.

Father announced the engagement between Astoria and I today, via the Daily Prophet. She was clearly aware of it, though it was the first _I'd_ heard of it as anything more than a nebulous 'you will' with no particular time frame. My eyes seek you across the Great Hall, and I can see the slightly sick look you are trying to hide. My heart soars as you look at me and our eyes meet, but then shatters as I see the resignation there, the gradual shuttering and the slowly waning little flame that was my lifeline.

No, _no_! Please! Please, you can't give up! I _need_ you, please! Harry, oh Merlin, please save me! You just have to _speak_ to me, even with genuine neutrality, and the curse will break and I can do the rest!

The flame dies, and inside, so do I.

I bury the sobs and silent screams, swallowing harshly to clear the lump from my throat. Why, _why_ couldn't you ever see me as more than the idiot boy who took out his hurt pride on you? Why can't you see I've changed?

You walk out of the hall, no longer resisting the Weaselette's arm in yours. I watch you leave, and I know that I've lost you forever.

So long, my love. I hope you find the happiness you deserve. Merlin knows, one of us needs to have it.


End file.
